Murder on the Vargas Express
by Lydiacatfish
Summary: When Detective Francis Bonnefois and his assistant, Elisabeta Hedervary, board a train in Russia, they think it will be a simple ride to Vienna, then Paris. But when one of their fellow passengers is murdered, it's up to them to catch the killer and stop them before they strike again. Unfortunately, it won't be easy-everyone has an alibi and no one knows the victim. So who did it?
1. Chapter 1

**Introduction**

_In which the cast is introduced, and one of its members leaves at the hands of another._

Picture it-snow gently falling high in the mountains. There was a rustic village there-well, it wouldn't be rustic for another hundred years, at least. It was the first week of the new year at the turn of the century, and this little town was just right for 1900. It was not very big, with only about hundred people living in it, but it had its own train station.

The station was full of smoke from trains come and gone, but the only one actually there at the moment was a smaller one, with about ten cars. The station was the perfect size for the little town in Russia, a peaceful village-at least until recently, when a gruesome murder had shaken the town.

Luckily, the murderer had been caught and the victim's family was able to grieve happily. Both victims' families, for you see, someone had been wrongly accused. However, in the nick of time, a detective from France had whisked through the town and solved the whole case in a matter of days with his lovely Hungarian assistant.

No one knew why they traveled together, only that wherever they went a crime was being committed and they knew how to solve it.

Their names were Detective Francis Bonnefois, he was a private eye, and his lovely assistant's name was Elisabeta Héderváry. All that was really known about them was that they were French and Hungarian, respectively, and that Elisabeta might or might not be married. She seemed to wear a ring, but only sometimes, and she'd been seen with men everywhere she went that she wasn't wearing said ring for. And of course, it was well-known that Francis would _never _touch Elisabeta in an inappropriate way, for fear of being bludgeoned to death with a random blunt instrument she kept on her body (rumors said it was either an anvil, a bag, or a frying pan. Most suspected the bag). The two always spoke in French to each other, but it seemed they also knew other languages which they spoke to others.

They were at the station for the obvious reason-to catch a train. They had actually planned to split up. Elisabeta would get off the train when it stopped in a small town just outside Vienna, Francis when it had gone a little further and ended up in Paris. There would be more stops along the way, but the whole trip wouldn't be more than two weeks long.

They were starting in the village, which was about two hundred miles from St. Petersburg, then would travel south to Kiev, west to Berlin, south to Vienna, then straight through the rest of Austria-Hungary and Switzerland to France. There would be stops in the smaller cities on the way, of course, but it would be a good, scenic trip.

Francis handed his luggage to the young porter, who scowled at him and threw the luggage unceremoniously under a seat, muttering in Italian. Francis was shocked at the treatment, but the case had worn him out and he didn't want to argue.

Elisabeta's bags were handled by a boy who could have been Francis' porter's twin (indeed he was the twin) and led her to her seat, across from Francis', cheerfully. "Have a good trip, Miss!"

"Thank you, young man. I shall certainly try." She smiled at him, and he skipped away happily.

"Ah, I am glad to finally be on my way home, Elisabeta," Francis sighed as he sunk back into his seat. "I miss Paris."

"And I miss Altstadt, and my Roderich." Elisabeta closed her eyes and pictured her husband. He was a sweet man who wouldn't hurt a fly, though he was a bit lazy. Still, he was loving, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt when she remembered the string of lovers she'd acquired while she was traveling the continent with Francis.

"You will see him soon enough, Elisabeta," Francis replied. "Two weeks."

"I know, but it still seems so far away," she sighed wistfully.

"It is not. Calm yourself."

"I suppose you are right." She gathered herself up and pulled a book out of her handbag.

"Of course I am. I am always right." Elisabeta ignored him. She knew there was a point to which she could argue with Francis, but when he got into his extremely egotistical side, there was no use talking with him about it. She simply read her book and dreamed of home.

* * *

Four days later, they arrived at their first major stop: Kiev. The twin porters had stayed on the train to act as servants and served foods, made beds, and when they were on their breaks, chatted with Elisabeta and Francis and/or sulked in the conductor's car.

The detective and his assistant did not worry about having to get off and repurchase a ticket-they negotiated with the conductor and paid him enough to take them to their respective locations back in Russia. They had a few hours to kill, however, so they took a stroll around the city while other passengers boarded the train. Feliciano, the cheerful porter, promised to save their seats for them. His brother, Lovino, claimed he was making no promises about that.

When they returned, they found the train surprisingly empty, with only a few other people in their car. When they asked Lovino about it, he said, "They say a blizzard is going to take over Berlin in a few days, so most people don't want to risk it. Do you still want to stay?" Francis and Elisabeta both sensed a _Please say no _that he wasn't saying out loud.

Francis snorted. "Of course. I paid for this trip, and I will be in Paris by the end of it if you have to carry me there." Lovino shot him a dirty look before going to talk to a blonde man who was trying to get his attention a few seats away.

There was a girl who looked like she could be the man's twin if she only gained a few years sitting nearby, knitting, and Elisabeta, desperate for female contact after a four-day-long sausage fest, walked over to her immediately and introduced herself in French. "Hello, there. My name is Elisabeta."

The girl looked up from her knitting and smiled. "My name is Lilli. It's nice to meet you, Elisabeta," she replied in French, though her accent was heavily German.

"Very nice to meet you as well, Lilli. Tell me, where are you headed? You sound German, so is it Berlin?" asked Elisabeta, switching to German. She scooted a bit closer to Lilli.

"No, Paris," Lilli replied. "And my brother and I aren't German, actually. We're Swiss. But you were close." She smiled at Elisabeta.

"Ah, Swiss! I've never been to Switzerland, though my husband has. I'm from Austria-Hungary, actually, I was born in Budapest."

"Oh! I've only been to Austria-Hungary when I was traveling through there to get to here with my brother."

"Oh, you _must _visit someday, it's a lovely country."

"Only if you visit Switzerland," Lilli replied slyly.

Elisabeta laughed. "You'll have to show me around, then."

"And you'll have to show me around Austria-Hungary."

"It's a date, then!" They shook hands, and Lilli giggled.

"Lilli! Don't talk to strangers!" someone barked from a few seats away. Elisabeta and Lilli both turned. It was Lilli's brother.

"Vash, she's not-"

"It's fine, Lilli. I'm sorry. I didn't think your brother would react like that. Forgive me if I got you into any sort of trouble," Elisabeta said quickly. "Why don't you go sit with your brother? I'll find my companion." Lilli nodded. "We'll make our travel plans later," she added with a grin, then got up and sat back down in her original seat.

Francis rejoined her a few seconds later. "I just got back from an interesting chat with a man from China."

"Who?" She looked around the car.

"Over there, the one towards the back." He pointed surreptitiously at the man in the back. He had long, black hair tied back behind his head, and was wearing a red, silky, Chinese suit with gold patterns.

"What was so interesting about your chat?" she asked.

"Well, not much, he's a bit boring, but I could smell opium on him. He said he was going to London, so I'm assuming it's to negotiate for business. I mean, _he _says it's personal, something about his sister, I wasn't really paying attention, but of course that's some kind of front."

"Francis, what are you suggesting?" Elisabeta asked.

"Absolutely nothing. It's none of my business if a drug dealer is on the train with us and these poor young people. You know, Feli, Lovino, that girl you were with." Francis' eyes gleamed.

"I doubt he'll try to deal on the train, Francis." Elisabeta rolled her eyes.

"Oh, you never know. Anything could happen, my dear. You must keep your imagination open."

* * *

After another five days, the train arrived in Berlin. The station there was strangely deserted, and Francis and Elisabeta chalked it up to the oncoming storm that was apparently going to hit in only a day or so.

Still, a few people did board the train there-an Englishman with messy hair who took an instant disliking to Francis, his tall American companion who immediately loved everyone on the train, and a pair of German brothers, one of whom was tall, muscular, and blond, named Ludwig, and another who was shorter, thinner, and albino, named Gilbert. Elisabeta was intrigued by him, as she'd never actually met an albino person before, but quickly decided she didn't like him.

He wouldn't stop flirting with her.

Normally, this would be something Elisabeta would be flattered by, possibly even encourage, but her close proximity to her husband had turned her off from entertaining other men for the time. She tried her best to stay away from him, but the train was small, and the only way she could hold him at bay was to direct his interests to Francis. The two got along like a fish and water, which was a blessing and a curse, it seemed to Elisabeta.

Francis wasn't bothered by Elisabeta's troubles, however. He was more interested in the Englishman-not only because of the Englishman's (whose name was Arthur) distaste for him, but because of his apparent relationship to the Chinese man, whose name was Yao. He asked the American, Alfred Jones, about them, but Alfred brushed him off, saying they had no relationship whatsoever. Of course, this only deepened Francis' curiosity.

"Perhaps they don't actually know each other, Francis. I mean, they've never actually spoken except for when they both wanted the steak but there was only one left," Elisabeta sighed. She'd just gotten out of another tiring conversation with Gilbert and didn't want to deal with Francis quite yet.

"But it's so obvious they _do _know each other, Elisabeta. Look! Use your eyes! Yao clearly loathes Arthur, though like you said, they've never spoken. See the way he looks at him when he thinks no one is watching? He glares at him with all his might, Elisabeta. And Arthur is clearly trying to avoid him. He spends all of his time with his American friend-in fact, I don't think he's really spoken to anyone besides him except to curse at us or ask us to pass the salt. It's because he doesn't want us to notice him, and he doesn't want us to remember him. And of course Yao has something to do with it, I just know it." Elisabeta just nodded while Francis started to ramble. "After all, we're all going to remember Yao, because Yao is from China and it's highly unlikely any of the people on this train will ever meet anyone else from China. And if Arthur is connected to Yao in any special way, we'll remember his as well, as the man from England who knew the man from China, and I don't think Arthur wants to risk us knowing that." Francis crossed his arms and grinned smugly.

"And how do you know all of this?" Elisabeta asked. "Have you just been staring at Mr. Kirkland these past two days since we left Berlin?"

"No, that's not all I've spent my time doing. I've been looking at Vash Zwingli too, I think there's something up with him as well. He's far too stiff for a man going to Paris for vacation with his little sister. He obviously has some kind of illicit business there he doesn't want to tell us about."

"Of course he does, Francis." Francis frowned at Elisabeta. "I'm just trying to say, not everyone has a horrible secret. You don't need to think that some kind of crime is going to be committed just because the man from China clearly hates the man from England, as many people from China do, and because the Swiss man seems a bit stiff."

Francis sighed. "Well, I was just trying to have a bit of fun, you know? I can't help it. It's instinct."

"May I have everyone's attention, please?" someone called from the front of the car. Elisabeta and Francis turned. It was Feli, wringing his hands together nervously. "We are sorry to announce that the blizzard that was intended for Berlin has gone south and completely buried the tracks on the way to Vienna." Someone groaned. "But, the good news is, we will still be able to go to Paris. It will take another three days because we'll have to cut through Belgium. We are very sorry for the inconvenience." He ran back to the servant car where he and his brother slept.

Elisabeta scowled. "Now how long will I have to wait to see my Roderich?" she murmured sadly.

Francis reached over and patted her hand. "I promise we will find you a way to Austria-Hungary after we arrive in Paris, Elisabeta. I am sorry."

Someone groaned in the back again. "Who is making that noise?" Lilli asked out loud. Another groan came. "It sounds like someone is hurt!"

Francis and Elisabeta jumped up. The two of them, the German brothers, and Lilli were the only ones actually in the car, and the noise seemed to be coming from the car behind theirs. Francis ran to the back and opened the door to the next car.

Yao was lying on the floor, blood blossoming out of his stomach, staining his white shirt red. "Yao!" Elisabeta shouted when she caught up to Francis. She kneeled down next to him. Lilli ran up next to her. "Stand back, I know what I'm doing."

She started tearing up Yao's shirt, trying to staunch the wound. Actually, wounds. It appeared that he had been stabbed multiple times in the stomach. Yao groaned again. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. It was clear he was not going to make it.

"Yao! Who did this to you?" yelled Francis. Yao just moaned again. "Yao! We need to know who did this so we can help you!"

"I'm sorry...Mei..." he choked out. The blood continued to pour from the gaping wound in his stomach, but slower, and his breathing stopped.

"No," whispered Elisabeta. She checked for a pulse. "No!"

Francis put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Elisabeta. You couldn't save him."

"No!" she sobbed. "No! I refuse!"

Francis gave her a sad look, then closed Yao's eyes. "Come. Crying over his death won't help him. We need to figure out who did this.

"We must find out who on this train is a murderer."

* * *

**AN: Just a few notes. The town where Roderich lives, Altstadt, is taken from the name of the town that Castle Brennenburg in Amnesia is by. It's supposedly in the Black Forest. I have no idea if it even exists.**

**I have never read Agatha Christie's _Murder on the Orient Express. _I just used the name and sort of the premise. I do not own _Murder on the Orient Express. _Any similiarities between the two are completely coincidental.**

**This is fun~ I'm excited. But this prologue got so long I had to make it into an introduction. Psh. Whatever.**

**Enjoy~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_In which a proper investigation starts, and a suspect is found innocent in an unfortunate manner._

Yao was still slowly bleeding in Elisabeta's hands, and his white shirt was slowly stained more and more pink, then red. For a second, it was not the Chinese man bleeding to death in front of her, but someone else, and she was not on the floor of a train car but sitting on the ground in a forest on her father's estate. The man under her had brown hair, and he smiled and told her it wasn't her fault, but...

Francis turned back to Lilli. "Miss Zwingli, please go find Messrs Beilschmidt for us and send them to find the remaining passengers and staff. That way we can begin a proper investigation." Lilli's face was deathly white, but she managed a nod before staggering off into the car behind her.

"Francis, what will we do with Yao...with the body? We can't just leave him here," Elisabeta said. "And it isn't like we can throw him off the back. It would be disrespectful to his spirit."

"We will lay him out in the back of the train after everyone is present. Come. We must begin our investigation." He helped her up, and she walked back to her seat in the other car with shaking legs.

Francis looked over the body for a few more moments. Multiple stab wounds, but they were oddly circular, as if done by a spike. And who could Mei be? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd heard it before.

Obviously, it had been done by one of the four who hadn't been in the car with them when Feli made his announcement, and Francis was personally suspecting Arthur. But what kind of motive did Arthur have? And how could someone like him kill Yao? He walked with a cane, for god's sake!

Perhaps he got his American friend to do it. But no, Alfred didn't have the mentality to be a killer. He was far too..._nice. _

So Vash or Lovino then. But honestly, he doubted either of them could have done it either.

Francis was starting to get excited. Oh, it was complicated and impossible and lovely. His brain was getting out of the relaxed state it had been in for the past two weeks and it felt _amazing. _

He glanced back down at Yao's body, then pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket. It was embroidered with a blue F B in the corner. It wasn't something he was willing to part with, seeing as it had been a gift from a very important person, but...well, respect for the dead, and all. He laid it over Yao's face, then returned to the passenger car where everyone else had already gathered.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I am saddened to inform you that one of our fellow passengers, Mr. Yao Wang, has just been murdered." Alfred, to his credit, gave a theatrical gasp. "This is a tragedy for all of us, but the more important matter is the fact that someone on this train is the one who killed him."

"Well who is it? I wanna know who here is a goddamn murderer!" shouted Gilbert.

"We do not know the identity of the killer yet, however, my assistant and I will be investigating. For now, we have decided upon four suspects. These four men were not present in the train car with Elisabeta and myself during the time of the murder, and as their whereabouts were unknown, they are the first on our list."

The Beilschmidt brothers both visibly relaxed, but Lilli's face became a chalky white color. "You're not going to say that my big brother is a suspect, are you?"

"We're sorry, Lilli, but we can't prove he's innocent," said Elisabeta. "We will do everything in our power to, though."

Lilli brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, then buried her face in them.

Francis ignored her. "We have decided upon four suspects," he repeated. "Arthur Kirkland, Alfred Jones, Vash Zwingli, and Lovino Vargas, please stand up." The four men grudgingly stood, Arthur leaning heavily on his black wooden cane. "You are our four suspects. I will ask you all outright: which of you killed Yao Wang?"

"How dare you!" shouted Arthur. "I am a gentleman, and no killer. Besides, how could I? I walk with a _limp, _Monsieur Bonnefois. I could not kill a man if I tried."

"Mr. Kirkland, the victim was stabbed in the stomach. Even with a limp, I'm sure you could manage to take someone down with a sharp enough object," Francis replied coolly. "I'll take it your answer is a no, then?"

"It bloody well is! I killed no one! Alfred and I were in the dining car, we were both feeling a bit peckish and wanted to see if there was anything there to eat," Arthur said scathingly. "Isn't that right, Alfred?"

"Yeah. That's what happened. Neither of us killed that guy. Sorry, Detective." He shrugged his shoulders apologetically. Francis stared him down. There was something off about the way he said they were both innocent, but what? Perhaps he was lying. Or perhaps he was just tense. Francis wasn't ready to write it off as that quite yet, though, and filed the thought away.

"I see. Thank you for your input," Francis said. He turned to Vash and Lovino. "What do you have to say?"

"I didn't murder anybody! I was...I was in the kitchen car, making pasta for dinner," Lovino said defensively.

"And I was in the bathroom," added Vash.

"Interesting," replied Francis, stroking his stubble. "And neither of you can actually prove this, yes?"

"W-Well, no, but-"

"Then you are our prime suspects," Francis declared coldly, "unless you can prove to us that you were where you said you were."

"What are you gonna do about it? You can't just stop us from being here. And you can't throw us off the train or anything until you prove we're guilty, _which _we're not," growled Lovino.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out. Perhaps we'll lock you in the caboose with Yao's corpse," Francis mused. "I believe that would work. You would be out of our way and able to watch the body and hold some kind of proper wake for him. We'll be too busy conducting our proper investigation to do so, so you'll do it as part of your repentance."

"But we didn't do it!" protested Vash.

"You both say 'we'. How can you be so sure Lovino did not commit this crime, Mr. Zwingli? And you seem so sure Mr. Zwingli did not either, Lovino. How do you know?"

Lovino's face went red, though Francis couldn't tell if it was because of anger, embarrassment, or something else. "He's Lilli's brother. No one related to Lilli could hurt someone. He practically raised her. If he really was a killer, wouldn't that have rubbed off on her?"

Francis furrowed his eyebrows. "This is true. But every parent keeps secrets from his children, and Vash is no exception, though they are siblings, not father and daughter."

Lilli untucked her head from her knees and screamed, "Vash would never hide anything from me!" Her eyes were red from crying. Elisabeta rushed to her side to try to comfort her, but Lilli brushed her away. Elisabeta visibly deflated and went back to her seat.

"No more excuses. You two are the closest we have to suspects right now. Alfred," he said to the American, who jumped at hearing his name. _Interesting, _thought Francis. "Could you escort Mr. Zwingli and Mr. Vargas to the caboose?" He nodded and put his hands on the two men's shoulders, pushing them lightly past Francis. Lovino spit on the Frenchman's shoes, but Francis did not react visibly. "And Elisabeta, could you help me move Mr. Wang's body? We ought to lay it out properly as soon as possible."

"Oh, me and Luddy could do that for you, we wouldn't want that pretty face of Elisabeta's getting blood on it-" Gilbert started, but Francis held up a hand.

"I'm almost positive she has more experience in this sort of thing than you and your brother, Mr. Beilschmidt." Ludwig bristled, but said nothing. "Elisabeta, if you please." She nodded and followed him out of the car, back to Yao's corpse.

"Do you really think Vash or Yao could have killed him?" Elisabeta gestured to the body.

Francis shook his head. "No. Personally, I believe it was Arthur, but I can't figure out how. Is there anything unusual about his body?"

"Well, the wounds aren't regular stab wounds, they're-"

"Circular, yes, I know. So he was stabbed with a spike of some sort. But where would anyone get something like that?"

Elisabeta shrugged. "I have no idea."

Francis sighed. "Well, it was worth a shot. Come, let's take the body down to the caboose. I'll take the head, you take the legs." He knelt down and lifted Yao's head up while Elisabeta took the legs. Francis wrapped his arms under Yao's armpits and they carried his body down the train and through several cars until they reached the caboose, where a bench was sitting empty. They laid him down gently, then turned to the car's other occupants.

"Treat the body with respect," Elisabeta ordered.

"What, are you afraid of some vengeful spirits coming back to haunt us if we don't?" Lovino asked sarcastically.

She glared at him. "God help you if they do." She turned around and stalked out of the train car, passing Alfred on her way out, who gave a low whistle directed at Francis.

"Firecracker, huh?"

"You have no idea." He followed her out of the car.

Alfred turned to Vash and Lovino. "I'm really sorry about this, guys. I'm sure you didn't do it, but I can't argue with the professional here."

"How can you be so sure we didn't, huh?" challenged Vash.

"Trust me. Neither of you are killers. I'm gonna lock the door now. You should probably get some sleep, it's getting pretty late. My watch says eleven o'clock. I'll lock the door now. Lovino, your brother will be by in the morning to deliver breakfast. Maybe I'll come too. Anyway, I'll see you soon." He closed the door to the caboose and locked it with the key Feliciano had procured from his grandfather, the conductor of the train.

He decided to stop in the bathroom of the next car for a minute. All of this murder tension was really about to make him pee his pants. Plus, what if Yao's ghost came? That would be _so scary._

Meanwhile, Lilli was still quietly crying to herself in her seat. How could they _do this? _She'd really trusted Elisabeta, but she'd sided with that weird French guy when he said that Lovino and her brother could both be the murderer! She _knew _neither one could have done it. Vash would _never,_and Lovino, while kind of violent sometimes, was so sweet to her, he couldn't have done it either! They were both just too good of people.

But the detective did have a point. How did they know the other didn't do it? Maybe they were...together? Well, it wouldn't be surprising. They met up a lot when their paths crossed, if Vash's business took him on the Vargas Express for whatever reason. That was how she met Lovino, actually, and through time their relationship had blossomed.

It always seemed like he knew when she was coming in advance. He always gave her lilies-of-the-valley when she boarded the train. She wasn't sure Vash approved, but Lovino was just so kind to her. And he always seemed to have his time off when Vash was in business meetings, and he'd always take her on little outings when they were in the same city. In Venice they'd get gelato, in the Netherlands they'd get Dutch letters, and so on.

There was no way he was a murderer. And Vash wasn't either.

She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. She noticed Ludwig, the blond German man, giving her a pitiful look, so she shot him a glare and decided to take a short walk.

She really needed to wash her face, she realized a few cars down. Wasn't there a bathroom in that car right by the caboose? And then maybe she could see Vash and Lovino and see how they were.

She was just about to reach the bathroom car with the bathroom when she heard a strange, wet noise. She stood on her toes to peek through the window on the door and gasped.

Alfred was lying on the ground, choking. There was a red, gaping hole in his shirt, and blood was spilling out of it. And standing over his dying body was...

* * *

**AN: I'm such a bitch.**

**It's probably obvious by now, but if it's not, you're going to have to wait a little longer to find out who it is. Probably next chapter or the one after that.**

**Who sees my horrible plot hole? Anyone? As long as you don't, it's fine. Don't see it. Really. I don't want you to.**

**Anyway, see you next time! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_In which investigations go nowhere and the killer is discovered, but not revealed._

Lilli gasped. She tried to turn around to run back to the car with the Beilschmidt brothers to ask for help, but forgot she was standing on her toes and stumbled. She landed with a loud 'thud' on her knees.

She quickly tried to scramble to her feet, but tripped on the hem of her dress, crashing to the floor again. The cars weren't too large, and the killer had heard her. Within seconds, the door opened, and she stared into his eyes.

"You saw, didn't you?"

Lilli trembled in response.

He sighed. "I really don't want to kill you, Lilli. I truly don't. But you've seen what I've done, and for that, you're going to have to die as well."

Lilli did the only thing she could think of-she screamed for her brother. "VASH!"

"Damn!" the killer hissed. He brought down his sharp weapon directly into her chest, then ran back to Alfred's corpse. He lifted the key from the American's pocket and used it to unlock the door to the caboose. He then hid away in the bathroom, concealing his weapon in private.

At the sound of his sister's scream, Vash jumped up. "Lilli's in trouble!" He made for the door, but Lovino grabbed his hand.

"Wait. The others will have heard her too. Do you really want to try to get out there after she's just screamed your name? What if you're out there and they think you killed her?"

Vash's green eyes blazed at the Italian. "How dare you! I would never kill her! She's the only family I have left-"

"You think the others will care? They'll just think you killed her to take the trail off yourself! Stay in here. With the door locked, they won't suspect it's us."

Vash shot another glare at the unusually thoughtful Lovino, then sat down on the bench next to his Italian companion.

Lovino was right. Elisabeta and the others _did _hear Lilli's cry for help. Elisabeta, Francis and the Beilschmidt brother all came running, but by the time they arrived at where the young girl lay, she had already passed away.

"She screamed her brother's name," Francis murmured. "Just before she died. Was it a call for help, or...?"

"Let's go find out, shall we?" Elisabeta replied stiffly. She stepped around Lilli's body carefully before opening the door to the next car. "Oh, isn't that brilliant?"

"What?" Francis peeked around her shoulder and groaned. "Not the American, too!"

"I guess this means we can rule him out of our suspect list," Elisabeta muttered. She walked briskly to the end of the car and slid the door to the caboose open. "That's odd," she said with a frown. "It should be locked. Alfred had the key..."

"Unless they took it from him and killed him in the process," Francis whispered in her ear, suddenly behind her. "Then killed Lilli when they realized she'd seen what they'd done."

"But what about Arthur?" she hissed in reply. "Where has he been this whole time?"

As if on cue, the door to the bathroom, only a few feet away, opened, and Arthur stumbled out, looking pale. "Are they gone?" he asked hoarsely.

"Who? Are who gone?" Francis demanded.

"I-I saw them attack Alfred before he could lock the door, and then they dragged him over here. I hid in the bathroom so they wouldn't see me and k-kill me too." He leaned on his cane. "Then I think they saw that girl, L-Lilli, watching them, and they went and m-murdered her too." Vash stood up angrily, but Lovino pulled him back down so they could watch the exchange in silence.

Francis narrowed his eyes. "Is that so?"

"Y-Yes! Don't you believe me? My best friend and that innocent girl are dead! I could n-never kill anyone!" he shouted.

"Of course we believe you," Elisabeta said soothingly. "Come, let's take you back to the main car. Perhaps Feliciano can find you a good brandy." She helped him down the narrow train car while Francis glared at her from Alfred's body.

After safely depositing him into his seat and ordering Feliciano to bring him a strong drink to calm his nerves, she returned to Francis, who was waiting impatiently. "He shouldn't bother anyone from his seat. Shall we take care of the bodies?" she asked.

"No. First we must question our prime suspects-Vash and Lovino." They walked into the caboose. "Congratulations! You have both been promoted to 'probably the killers' to 'if you're not the killers I'll feel very foolish indeed'."

"We didn't kill Alfred or Lilli, Frenchman. We were locked in here the whole time," Lovino explained slowly, as though he thought Francis wouldn't be able to comprehend what they were saying.

"The door was unlocked, and the key was not on Alfred's person. Explain that."

"The real killer probably unlocked the door to frame us! We were in here the whole time-just the two of us and Yao's body." Lovino gestured to the stiffening corpse on the bench across from him.

"Why would we kill Lilli? I love her! She's my sister, the only person I have left. If I had to kill her, I'd kill myself too. Think about _that." _

"What about you?" Francis looked at Lovino. "You'd have no qualms with killing Lilli. You barely knew her."

Lovino's face went red, anger bubbling up inside him. "That's what you think," he spat. "I knew her very well, actually, her and Vash both. They're both my friends, and Lilli and I..."

"You courted?" Elisabeta asked gently.

"Exactly." Lovino nodded. "So why would I kill her?"

"She rejected your advances? You didn't like her so much yet and it wouldn't be so bad? She was going to reveal the secret business the two of you had together?" Vash stiffened. "Ah, so I was right. It's obviously something illegal, or else you wouldn't kill Miss Lilli over it."

"We didn't kill her! And we wouldn't over something stupid like that!" protested Lovino.

"If you want to know what it is, we deal in weapons. I ship them out of Switzerland illegally. Happy? Now it's not a big secret, and it can't be a motive for us killing Lilli. There." Vash crossed his arms.

Francis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're getting nowhere."

While Francis and Elisabeta were making no progress whatsoever with Vash and Lovino, one Ludwig Beilschmidt was making plenty of progress looking through the belongings of the deceased Yao Wang. He'd left his brother and Feliciano, who had by now fetched Arthur's drink, moving Lilli and Alfred's bodies onto some seats, and Arthur had left to use the bathroom. Apparently he had a weak bladder, but Ludwig wasn't worrying about that. He knew there had to be something important in Mr. Wang's belongings, but Elisabeta and Francis hadn't looked through them yet and he wanted to help as much as possible.

It was mostly just clothing, and some personal items. There was one photograph that caught his eye, though.

There were three people in the photo. A Chinese girl holding a baby, and the third person...well, they were cut off, but he could still see light hair and a bit of skin where Yao had obviously not been able to cut for fear of damaging the other two in the picture.

There was something strangely familiar about the baby, though. He flipped over the photo to see if there was some indication of who it was. There was a note, written in English, oddly enough.

_My dear Mei, I do apologize, but I simply cannot accept this child as my legal offspring. Sincerely, _and then a name that had been crossed out angrily by someone so it was illegible.

He flipped the photo back over to study the child. What _was _it that was so familiar? He obviously took after his mother, if the Chinese woman was indeed his mother, but there was something that was off about him.

He had short dark hair and flat eyes of about the same shade. It wasn't possible to tell the exact color because the photo was in black and white. He was frowning, though his mother was grinning. In fact, the child looked like he was about to cry, his oversized eyebrows scrunched up in the middle of his forehead-

Oh.

_Oh._

Ludwig had discovered the identity of the killer.

He slipped the photograph into his back pocket and closed Yao's suitcase. He knew he should tell Francis and Elisabeta about it before confronting the killer himself, just in case he attacked _him _too.

But then, how much could he do? He'd taken Yao and Alfred by surprise, and Lilli was just a little girl. _And I'm strong, and he's weak, and he won't be taking me by surprise, _he thought to himself. _So if I asked him about it and he tried to attack me, I could hold him off and stop him killing anyone else._

Ludwig's thoughts finally convinced him to confront the killer on his own. He pictured the look of pride on his brother's face. _"My brother caught a murderer all by himself!" _he'd declare to the world, and then maybe he could stop being useless, better, Ludwig and be someone his brother would love.

Yes. Yes, that sounded very nice. He could do it. He squared his shoulders and left the compartment.

There was the killer, just coming out of the bathroom. The place was otherwise deserted. "I know what you did," Ludwig called out to the killer. The man was startled.

"Pardon?"

"You killed Yao, and Alfred, and Lilli. I know you did it. I found something in Yao's suitcase, a picture of his sister and a baby. Guess who the baby gets its eyebrows from?" Ludwig smirked.

The killer grinned back. "So you're found me out. Wonderful job, that so-called amazing detective hasn't even done it yet. I suppose you're going to tie me up or something and deliver me to the others?"

"That's exactly right."

"Fine. Do it. Incapacitate an old man in cold blood on a hunch." The killer shrugged. "Well, not old, but definitely older than you. And a cripple as well. Won't you just be a great hero?"

Ludwig glared into the killer's poisonous green eyes. "I know it was you. And I'd rather keep the people on this train safe on a hunch than let another one of them die because I was hesitant." He slowly approached the killer, who was leaning lazily on his cane. "Come with me and I promise not to hurt you."

"Really." The killer seemed to find this suggestion very funny. "You know, Ludwig, I'm not worried about my own health right now, and you shouldn't be either. You should be worried about yourself." And suddenly, twisting like a snake, the killer brought his cane up in a twirl and knocked Ludwig square across the face with it.

Ludwig fell to the ground. He touched his nose. Definitely broken. He looked up and saw the killer fiddling with the end of the cane. "You know," the killer said, "canes are wonderful things. People automatically assume you're helpless and will do things for you, but they can also be used to store things. I knew a man once who stored poison in the neck of his. Mine isn't nearly as...sophisticated, of course. I just unscrew the bottom, and, voila!" A spike slid out of the bottom of Arthur's cane. "Screw that in nice and tight, and it becomes a perfect weapon. Then when I'm done I slide it back up, cover the end back up, and no one has to know."

"Please don't kill me," Ludwig begged as Arthur positioned the business end of the spike straight over his heart. "Please. You don't need to do this."

"Oh, but I do, young Ludwig, I really do. I have to protect my family, you see, and if that means taking out a few pesky young people on a train, then so be it."

"But Alfred...he was your best friend..." At this point, Ludwig was just stalling for time, trying to come up with a plan in case Francis and Elisabeta or anyone else didn't come soon.

"He threatened to reveal me to everyone on the train," the killer snarled. "I couldn't let him do that. And I can't let _you_do what you wanted. Trying to be a hero for big brother? Is that it? Maybe you had some kind of infatuation with someone on the train you wanted to impress, the Hungarian? Or maybe that porter boy, Feliciano?" Ludwig's eyes widened as the killer moved the spike closer to his heart. "Too bad they'll never find out what I did. Too bad, eh? They'll never avenge you." The killer jerked the cane up sharply, then stabbed it down into Ludwig's chest.

* * *

**AN: So it's pretty obvious who the killer is now, yeah? Yeah. We've got means, and we've sort of got motive, it's just not been fully explained yet.**

**Oh no, Ludwig's dead too. Darn. **

**Anyhow, hope you enjoyed! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_In which the killer is revealed and restrained in the wake of adultery._

No one found Ludwig's body for another ten minutes or so, and that was when Feliciano had decided it was a good time to call everyone back to the main car for dinner. It was well past nine o'clock at that point, and Feliciano himself was getting pretty hungry, and was sure that everyone else was too but was just not able to tell because of all the excitement of the day.

He and Gilbert agreed that serving dinner would calm everyone's nerves, and so Feliciano assigned the albino man to tell everyone about the meal that Feliciano would be preparing while Feliciano went to go and make it. On his way to the dining car, which was just ahead of the main car, he saw something sticking out between seats. He walked over to it cautiously, then screamed.

It was Ludwig.

At the sound of his shriek, everyone came running (except for old Mr. Vargas, of course, who was driving the train) and found Feliciano sitting by Ludwig's feet, crying to himself with his knees pulled up to hsi chest. "_Dio, dio, dio, dio..."_

"Feliciano? What is it?" asked Elisabeta urgently.

"L-L-L-Ludwig!" he cried, pointing at the body of his friend, which appeared to have been dragged and flipped over behind some seats.

"Ludwig?" Gilbert came closer, then stared down at his brother's body. "H-Hey...West? Wake up. C'mon, West...wake up!" he growled. "Wake up! Wake up! Please..."

Francis shot a sympathetic look at Gilbert before kneeling down next to Ludwig's body. His eyes narrowed upon something sticking out of the man's back pocket, which he pulled away and concealed in his jacket while no one was looking.

"Bloody hell," whispered Arthur, who had hobbled in from the main car. "That poor man."

Gilbert was not handling his brother's untimely demise very well. "Dammit, West! Get off the ground, you useless little...! Come on!"

"Gilbert," Elisabeta said calmly, "why don't we just calm down and try to-"

"Fuck that!" Gilbert screamed at her. "He's my brother, dammit! My stupid, awesome, pain in the ass little brother! Fuck!" Tears started to fall from his eyes. "Fuck, West, just wake up..."

Elisabeta put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere else. Francis and the others will take good care of Ludwig, I promise." When he didn't move, she took his hand softly and led him to the sleeping car.

"You just need to get some rest," she said soothingly, sitting him down on the first bed she finds. "There, there. It's all going to be all right."

"My brother just got killed. How is everything going to be all right?" He looked up at her, his eyes redder than normal from crying.

"I know it hurts now, but everything will right itself eventually. I've been through this too." She sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "So don't worry."

He gazed down at her comforting green eyes. "How can I not worry? Not only is there a killer on the loose, I have to deal with my stupid family." He sniffed. "I never even liked Ludwig, you know? Our mom died when he was born, and I hated him for it. He was always trying to prove himself to me, and he got better than me at everything, and I hated him for that too. But I still…"

"Shh. He doesn't blame you for anything. I'm sure he loved you."

"I was supposed to protect him! He's stronger than me, and all that, but he doesn't, didn't, know about the world outside our town. I was supposed to teach him and help him survive. And now he's _dead. _Great job I did of that, huh?"

"No one blames you, Gilbert. I don't, Francis doesn't, and I'm sure wherever he is, Ludwig doesn't either."

"But how can you know that?"

"I just do. Like I said, I've been through this too. No one blames you."

He stared at her for a few seconds, then leaned over and kissed her.

Elisabeta couldn't say she was surprised. She had seen this coming since she'd taken him to comfort him. And she couldn't say she was surprised about what happened next, either.

Just as he was about to pull away and apologize, she kissed him back, putting her arms around him. Gilbert, while slightly surprised, went with it, pulling her closer and tangling his fingers in her long, chestnut hair. She opened her mouth for him and he pushed her back down onto the bed.

Bugger Roderich. This man, right now, he _needed _her. Just like all the others had.

While Elisabeta was helping Gilbert, Francis was trying to help the last few living passengers. He paced back and forth in the dining car while he waited for water to boil. Feliciano had gone into shock from seeing Ludwig's body, and Francis had volunteered to cook. It helped him think. _It wasn't Vash or Lovino, because Elisabeta and I were with them at the time of the murder. That leaves Feliciano, Gilbert, Arthur, and the conductor. But it couldn't have been Feliciano or Gilbert, judging by their reactions, and the conductor was driving the train. So it was obviously Arthur. Ha, I knew it all along! But how can I prove it?_

He sighed irritably. He needed proof. He sat down on the counter and rubbed at his face, which still smelled slightly of blood from when he had taken the…whatever-it-was from Ludwig's pocket. Oh, of course!

He pulled out the small rectangle of stiff paper. It was a photograph. Of course! And there was a Chinese girl, who must have been Mei, and a baby with eyebrows just like…

Ah-_ha. _Now he had proof.

Still, rushing in to confront Arthur wouldn't work. They had all seen how that had gone for Ludwig. No, he must do it where others were likely to hear him and come to his aid, but not in front of everyone else because they could steal his thunder. Francis hated that.

Elisabeta often scolded him for letting pride come before safety, but he would be safe. He would declare Arthur the murderer right in front of the sleeping compartment where Elisabeta would be "comforting" Gilbert right then. Silly girl. She was far too predictable.

Still, he did want to save her dignity a bit, so he'd have to do it while she might still be partially dressed. It would have to be now. "Lovino!" he barked. "Get in here! I need you to take care of dinner. I have something to do." He waited impatiently for the previously incarcerated Italian to arrive.

"What?"

"Take care of the pasta. I have something important to do." He rushed off before Lovino could object.

When he burst into the main car where Vash was brooding, Feliciano was wrapped in a fluffy blanket and sobbing quietly, and Arthur was doing a crossword, no one seemed to notice him. He walked confidently up to the Englishman and tapped him on the shoulder. "A word, please?"

Arthur grumbled quite a bit as he struggled with his cane-_obviously an act, perhaps the weapon? _Francis thought to himself-but he finally managed to follow Francis to where he wanted to go.

"What is it you want with me?" Arthur asked, leaning against the wall.

"I want to know how you killed Yao Wang, Alfred Jones, Lilli Zwingli, and Ludwig Beilschmidt, and why." Francis smiled serenely. Arthur did not mirror the expression.

"You've found me out?"

"It was this. I found it on Ludwig's person." He showed the photograph of Mei and her baby. "But why kill over it?"

"You might as well know. Very well. About fifteen years ago, I was in China, doing business. With Mr. Wang, in fact." Francis nodded. "I was wealthy at the time, though I am much wealthier now. Mr. Wang and I were actually good friends, although I sold him opium which he claimed was poisoning China, though _he _was the distributor."

"Continue."

"He took me to his home for dinner one night. It was there that I met his sister. Her name was Mei, and she was beautiful." His eyes glazed over with wistful nostalgia. "Barely eighteen at the time, but I was taken with her, and her with me. She was soon pregnant, and Yao demanded we marry. I held off the wedding until after the baby was born, but I was called over to England by my father before we could marry. I left her with the baby, who I had named Lee, just after that photo was taken. When I returned to England, my father told me I was to be married. And I was, within the month, before I could tell my father of the bastard I had fathered in China.

"I loved my wife, truly, but I still could not forget Mei. Especially after my wife grew pregnant. We named him Peter. Just after he was born, though, I received mail from Yao, with the photo in your hands reminding me of the child back in China. It was telling me to come back and marry his sister. I wrote back saying I was married and that the child was simply a bastard and Mei would never marry me. I thought that was the end.

"My wife died two years ago. My son still lives, and stands to inherit my estate. I am no simple trader, you see, my father was a lord before me, and I am now. My son will become one as well, unless it comes to light that I fathered a child before him. Lee may want to claim what he believes is rightfully his.

"I never dreamed I would see Yao or Mei or Lee again, but when Alfred and I boarded the train in Berlin and I saw Yao, I knew that he would try to force me to claim his nephew as my legal son. I had to kill him, to protect my family."

"So why Alfred and Lilli and Ludwig?" Francis asked softly.

"Alfred knew. He promised not to tell anyone, but I could tell his sense of justice was about to overpower him. I had to take care of him before he alerted any authorities. Lilli was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As for Ludwig, well, you said you got that picture off of his corpse. He had found me out."

"And how did you kill them?" Francis asked.

Arthur grinned and stood up straight, holding his cane horizontally in front of him. With a jolt, Francis realized he did not require its assistance to walk. "Many conceal weapons in interesting places, Detective Bonnefois. Watch closely." He slowly unscrewed the end of his cane, and a spike slid out softly. "Useful, isn't it? And no one suspected I could be the killer because of it, either. After all, how could an old man with a cane kill a man?" Quick as a snake, he used his cane to press Francis against the wall. "Well, sometimes things are not as they appear to be." He smiled. "And now it is time for you to die."

"E-Elisabeta!" Francis shouted. Damn, she should have heard while Arthur was confessing! What was taking her so long? "Elisabeta!" he shouted louder.

"Oh, shut up, your little whore isn't going to hear you," Arthur said with a sneer. "Give it up, Frenchman."

"ELISABETA!"

"I said _shut up!" _Arthur jerked the cane up to Francis' throat, cutting off his air. "Any last words, frog?"

"Just a few," Francis choked. "Elisabeta, he called you a whore."

Arthur crinkled his huge eyebrows in confusion just as Elisabeta brought a large frying pan down onto his head, knocking him out cold. His fingers slipped off the cane, which slid down to the floor. Francis gasped and fell to his knees. "Thank you," he said hoarsely.

"How did you know I would hear?" she asked.

"I knew…you and Gilbert…"

She snorted. "Of course you did."

Francis smiled. "You know…this is the second time…you've come to me…with only your smallclothes on…"

She blushed. "Yes, but this time I'm saving _you."_

"Too…right…"

Gilbert appeared from the sleeping compartment behind Elisabeta. "What the hell?" He was buttoning his pants back up and Francis laughed. Elisabeta went even redder.

"We've caught a killer. I'm going to go put my clothes back on." She stalked around the albino and slammed the sleeping compartment door shut behind her. Francis laughed some more.

* * *

Approximately ten hours later, the train arrived in Paris, and Arthur was handed over to the authorities. Francis preened and told his heroic story of how he confronted the dangerous maniac all by himself, until Arthur added that he was saved by a woman. The French police got quite the laugh out of that, especially considering their already strained relationship with the detective.

Gilbert got on a train straight back to Germany as soon as they arrived, leaving Elisabeta with a kiss and a promise to finish what they had started. "_You _did finish! And I'm married, you know!" she told him when the conductor called for the all aboard.

"That didn't stop you before!" he replied with a laugh just as the train was pulling away. She didn't have the chance to retort in time.

The Vargas Express left soon after, deciding to take Vash and Lilli's body back to Switzerland with them. Yao, Alfred, and Ludwig were all buried in Paris.

Francis and Elisabeta stayed in the city in Francis' large apartment. Separate rooms, of course. She sent a telegram to her husband telling him of her adventure (leaving out the part with Gilbert and her service to him), and several days later, just after lunch in a café with Francis, she received a reply.

HOW EXCITING STOP SPEAKING OF MURDER I NEED YOUR HELP STOP I HAVE BEEN ACCUSED STOP I KNOW IT IS COMPLETE STUPIDITY TO THINK I WOULD DO SUCH A THING BUT THERE IS A PILE OF EVIDENCE AGAINST ME STOP YOU MUST BELIEVE I DID NOT KILL ANYONE STOP PLEASE BRING YOUR DETECTIVE FRIEND HERE TO HELP PROVE ME INNOCENT STOP ALL MY LOVE RODERICH STOP

Elisabeta showed the telegram to Francis. He smiled at her. "It seems we have a case!"

* * *

**AN: This was originally two or three chapters longer with an epilogue! But chapter four and chapter five got melded together and the epilogue was less than a page long, as you can see, and it fit better here.**

**I'm probably going to call the sequel _A Study in Roderich. _Because "Roderich" and "Scarlet" sound sort of similar. (No they don't. I'm just crazy.) But I don't think the plots will be similar at all. It won't be like this one, where someone was killed on a train like in _Murder on the Orient Express. _It's just because they almost sound similar.**

**I'll post a note when that's up on this story. So until then, I hope you enjoyed! **


	5. Note

Hi everyone! I hate these as much as you do, but it must be done for the sake of the point in which this is posted.

If you're several months in the future, this note is probably obsolete! (I say probably because I am an extremely unreliable person and you never know what I might do.) So you can skip it.

Anyway, the sequel to this story is up! It is called "A Study in Roderich". If you're interested in reading it, go do so now. Or bookmark it for later. Either is fine.

If this is the future and the story you are reading is _not _the precursor to the story mentioned above, then it was far too late at night for me to be posting this note and I forgot to edit it for the purposes of this particular story. Sorry!


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